Silencer
by Arldetta
Summary: Tag to 4x07. A conversation between Stiles and Agent McCall. Multi-chapter fic now. Please R&R. Thanks. COMPLETE
1. Silencer

Walking the halls of the school, he deliberately sought the one man he really disliked talking to. Unfortunately, they needed to talk and it had to be now. Scott was taking Kira back to her father and Malia…. his heart skipped a beat. Ramming those emotions down in the abyss he held deep inside, Stiles focused on the task at hand. He wasn't sure if it was good or bad that he found the man so quickly.

Purposefully striding up to the much taller FBI agent, he announced firmly, "We need to talk."

Rafael glared down at the teen with his usually stern expression and spoke, "Agreed."

So without preamble, the pair sought out an empty classroom down the hall and headed inside. Stiles led the way in and McCall closed the door behind them. Before Stiles could begin, his friend's father rounded on him. "What the hell is going on around here, Stiles? And why I am not surprised to find you smack in the middle of it – again."

"Wha – huh?" The teen stumbled over his words with his usual eloquence as his mind processed the questions.

"And don't lie to me. You know what is going on around here. Many of you seem to know what is going on and I am tired of being left out. It is hindering my job. And if I can't do my job then people get hurt. You don't want people hurt, do you?"

"What? No, no of course not." Stiles already harbored enough guilt for all the people who suffered under the Nogitsune's reign of terror.

But McCall wasn't finished with his rant yet. "Melissa, my _wife_, knows more about what the hell is going on than me. So you are going to tell me something Stiles or so help me I will drag you into the station and make you tell me. And don't think your father is going to save you, because I'm betting he knows too, which makes him an accomplice – withholding information would not go over well with everything else. I spoke up for him before but I can easily take my recommendation back if I don't get some answers."

The expression on Stiles' face abruptly changed at the threat. Oh he didn't care about the threat to himself, but McCall hit below the belt when he threatened his dad. "You leave my dad out of this," he hissed between clenched teeth. "You have no idea what you are asking for. Believe me, you really don't want to know, ok."

"Yes, I do actually. Melissa wouldn't explain anything to me. Yet you seemed to know what she was talking about. The vault and those mushrooms. You didn't hesitate. And assassins? God, Stiles, y-" Rafael was surprised when his chest and throat suddenly seized up when the scene played out in his mind again. His heart ached at the thought of losing this goofy kid. Startled, he wondered when he had grown feelings for the teen.

Just like that, the surprising change of emotion caught the younger man off guard. "I had to. I couldn't let them die."

"Who?" McCall demanded. Stiles just gave him a look that said –_do you really need to ask?_ He decided to rephrase his questions, "Why did you think they would die? The other students are getting better or over it now."

"Trust me. If I hadn't…Running out of time… I couldn't let them die." The kid deflated, dragging gulps of air between phrases, as if realizing he had almost lost the ones he cared about for good.

For a moment, the hardened FBI agent watched his son's best friend. The kid looked wrecked - his face still pale and sweaty. His eyes looked like he hadn't slept in weeks. And there was something else, something he just couldn't put his finger on.

The scene played out again in his mind. After the Sherriff had suggested that other assassins could be involved, he quickly suited up and headed into the school. So as he was passing the locker room, his peripheral vision caught something he had feared. The instant he realized _who_ it was, his blood ran cold.

The man had demanded to know where the others were. Old tricks were the best tricks apparently, because the man vowed to kill the boy if he didn't give the others up, then proceeded to place the gun to the boy's forehead.

McCall had never really liked his son's friend, in fact, the kid had infuriated him on more than one occasion. Despite his low opinion, he was shocked when Stiles not only turned to face the assassin head on, but stood there determined to not betray his friends, and waited for death. The goofy kid he had known for years was willing to _die_ to protect his friends. He couldn't believe it. And if he had hesitated a moment longer from his shock, he wouldn't be in this room talking to the boy right now.

"And what if _you_ had died?" His vocal chords decided to start working again, albeit tight and raspy.

The question snapped Stiles out of his own wayward thoughts. Immediately, he stood up and spoke quickly. "Doesn't matter. I had to protect them. And you can't tell Scott about it. Whatever you do, don't tell him what happened."

"What? Why not?"

"Just don't. Scott will… He just can't know. Please, please don't tell him."

"Stiles, Scott isn't dumb. You still have blood on your face and shirt," though he was loathe to point it out, "He's going to know something happened."

"Fine, but he doesn't have to know everything, ok? Just tell him, tell him that you saw the guy swinging his gun around and pointing it at a student so you took him down. That's it. No need for any details. Okay? Good?" Stiles seemed anxious now and the FBI agent couldn't understand why Stiles would want to omit the specifics.

"What you did back there; what you faced? That isn't something to take lightly, Stiles. It is definitely not something a teenager should have to go through. You faced it better than most adults in the same situation. Your friends should know what you did for them. You were a hero." Flinching at the compliment, the younger man turned away hugging himself. The odd reaction threw Rafael. He opened his mouth to say something encouraging but was cut off by a shaky whisper.

"No. I'm not." Stiles cringed inside. He wasn't a hero. Scott was the hero. Scott is the one who didn't give up on him. That went out of his way to save him from the Nogitsune when in truth he shouldn't have. So much destruction and death lingered and it was all his fault. He let the monster in. It was his face that caused the pain. And it would forever be his burden to bear. A burden that was crushing him slowly inside. He put on a good front, but deep down, Stiles believed he should never have been saved.

Mind you, he wasn't suicidal. He wouldn't bail on his friends that easily. He owed them that much after everything they did for him. But if death threatened; if it happened while protecting them; well, he could accept that.

But if Scott knew he had been mere milliseconds from death and Stiles had done nothing to prevent it, the werewolf would worry. In fact, probably freak out and go all papa Alpha on his ass and ask him what the hell he had been thinking then settle back on just worrying all the time. Stiles didn't want Scott to worry about him. They had bigger and badder problems.

Behind him, his best friend's father spoke softly, a hint of sympathy and concern in his voice. "Stiles…" He didn't like it.

Spinning back around, Stiles stared up at the man, begging, " Please, just please don't tell him. Okay?"

Staring at the glossy brown eyes pleading with him, Rafael capitulated. "Fine. I won't tell him. But, Stiles, you know Scott. If he knows there's something wrong, something he is missing, he is going to keep trying to find out what it is."

"I know, and I'll handle Scott. Just, please..."

Heaving a sigh, McCall agreed, "Okay."

The relief in the teen was palpable. Sagging back, Stiles uttered a quick thanks. Then slowly, he stepped around the agent and left.

Rafael stood there for some time going over everything in his head. Ever since the chaos that erupted in Beacon Hills when Sherriff Stilinski, Melissa and that Argent man had been kidnapped, the tension and danger seemed to have spiked in the area. Somehow their kids were tied up in it all. Both Stilinski's had a really bad patch there for a while, and they were both barely holding it together. All the funerals they attended over the past few weeks have taken their toll on both men. When their masks slipped, he noted the heavy weight of guilt in both of their eyes.

And now there were assassins in town? Worse, these assassins were killing families and kids, seemingly at random. Again, somehow their kids were caught in the middle of it. Rafael was sure of it. He just didn't understand how.

When he saw the silencer pressed up to Stiles' head, he couldn't believe it. He had to do something. Sighing, he knew there would have to be a review and he felt he would clear it without a problem. After all he had saved the Sheriff's son in the process. Still, he kept the memories fresh, repeating them over and over so he didn't miss a single detail.

"_Where the hell did you come from?"_ The startled question was laced with confusion but even more than that; accusation. Why would….?

A cold, hard stone settled in his gut as realization hit. The undertone suddenly became clear, _"Why the hell did you save me?"_ Stiles had not fought death because he felt he _deserved_ it.

"Oh, God," he gasped. He had missed something vitally important. Something to do with those black samurai that they still have not been able to find. Stiles had looked horrible during those weeks. The Sherriff was losing hope and everyone else just seemed lost while Stiles crashed. He had to know what really happened.

Determined now, he decided that it was time he and Scott had a good long heart to heart. Right after he got back from the review, he would get answers. Information had been suppressed, silenced, withheld from him and he was done with it. He would learn the truth if it's the last thing he did.

- TW – TW – TW – TW – TW –

Well, I hope you all liked it. After I listened to Agent McCall's notes on the 'incident' and that he was looking at Scott (so it seemed) it looked as if he was trying to keep Stiles' name from it. Probably just to separate himself from the reality of it all, especially since he had known Stiles personally. But it also felt to me that he was trying to protect Scott from the truth. I started to wonder why.

And I'm sorry, as much as I love Stiles, I find it hard to believe that not only did he get away from everything the Nogitsune did in his name, he seemed remarkably accepting of the aftermath. I believe that Stiles would be hypersensitive to all the pain he caused as the dark spirit. And a part of him would feel such a deep sense of survivor's guilt that he would not be adverse to meeting death head on if it meant he saved his friends. But that could just be my feeling on it.

One more thing, I did not have a Beta – or even an Alpha or Omega – while writing this little ditty, so please forgive any mistakes. And I don't own anything Teen Wolf related. I fact, I had not planned on getting into another fandom, let alone this one - _ever_. Thank my daughter for that. But it's ok, I got her into Young Justice, so I guess we're even. Hehe.

Anyway, this story did not turn out the way I had originally envisioned it, but not bad either. I have a few ideas for some other stories. We'll see if I get to developing them. That kinda depends on my muse and how encouraged she is by feedback. So if you are still with me, a review or two or fifty would be awesome!

Thanks again for reading! (And reviewing, faving and alerting, too. ;) Much love for you all.

~Ari :D


	2. Beastly

Beastly

Quick AN: This chapter set after S4E10 "Monstrous" and goes AU from there.

- TW – TW – TW – TW –

"Dude, I need to talk to you."

"I need to talk to you too."

"Good, but not over the phone." Scott decided, then added, "And just you."

"Is something wrong, Scott?" Stiles' worry seeped into his words.

Scott ignored the question for now. Instead he countered, "Can you meet at my house?"

Glancing at Malia in the passenger seat, Stiles knew she had heard his best friend's request and she seemed to understand. "Yeah, just need to drop Malia home and I'll be right over."

"That's fine, I need to take Kira home too. See you there." They both hung up and went about their tasks.

Malia was curious of course but he assured her that if it was something important, the pack would know soon enough. Speeding along the streets of Beacon Hills and now that he was alone again the anxiety and restlessness crept back into his lanky frame. When the McCall's residence came into view, he immediately pulled into the driveway, jumped out of the Jeep, pulled out his key and walked right in to come to an abrupt, sliding stop with arms flailing. "Whoa!"

"Stiles." Rafael greeted flatly. Although his keen gaze caught the unsteady sway and slightly unfocused eyes of the teen.

For his part, Stiles quickly glanced outside and noted the black vehicle sitting in front of the house by the curb that he had previously missed. All the while, his mouth kept moving. "Hey, uh, Scott, didn't mention you were back."

"That's because I haven't told him yet. I only just got back in town."

Stiles looked up at the man feeling incredibly awkward. After all their last conversation had been on the weird side as well and he hadn't planned on having another heart-to-heart so soon. "Great, just great. So he, uh isn't here then?" He inquired while scratching behind his ear absently.

"No." The FBI Agent replied with not so hidden irritation.

"Well, it's been, um…. great seeing you. I think I'll just go up and wait for him in his room." Stiles went to dodge around the older man, who automatically maneuvered himself back in the way.

"Not so fast Stilinski. Since Scott has yet to show up, I think it's time we had another little chat."

The teen groaned, muttering under his breath, "Since the last one was all kinds of awesome," then quickly followed with, "Maybe some other time." He smiled and patted the man's shoulder before trying to head upstairs again.

Rafael easily pulled Stiles back. "Now."

Feeling a little annoyed himself now, Stiles glared at his best friend's estranged father and decided to lay it out for him. "Look we just had another fun filled night from which we need to debrief before we even attempt to make our way to school in a few hours and pretend that life is normal as ever and I'm not really in the mood to add another awkward conversation to my list of highlights for the evening let alone the concussion I'm dealing with after another attempt on my life, so that puts us right back to having this little talk -as you call it- some other time. So thank you and good night." This time Stiles made it to the first step before the older man made him pause.

"Fine," Raf conceded. "But I am going to talk to Scott when he gets here and I'm going to get the truth this time."

Anger fueled Stiles' courage at the intended threat, spinning around he approached his friend's father with purpose. "Yeah and what truth is that?"

"There is something going on here that you all aren't telling me. It started with those murders that brought me here. Then more so when your father, Melissa and Argent went missing. The attacks on the Hospital _and_ the Sherriff's station, that could have ended your father's career if not for my recommendation, I might add. And now with these assassins…"

"The assassins aren't a problem anymore. We took care of that tonight." Stiles dismissed the subject quickly, fury in his eyes at the jab toward his father.

Unfortunately, this did not sit will with the FBI Agent. "And how exactly did you stop the assassins?"

"We shut down the Dead pool. With the money flow gone the assassinations will stop. Problem solved, without you."

At Rafael's look of derision, incredulous of Stiles' capabilities, he scoffed, "You shut down the Dead pool?"

"Well, not by mys…." Stiles abruptly stopped what he was going to say, realizing that it would implicate just how many people were involved and in the know of what was really happening in Beacon Hills. Instead, he pulled himself up to his full height and smiled. "Yes, _I_ managed to find and stop the Dead pool."

"Don't lie to me, kid. I may have just got back but that won't stop me from dragging your ass into the Precinct to go over all this with your father. I am sure he would love to know exactly what you have been up to tonight."

Taking another step forward and invading the older man's personal space, Stiles' bit out, "You think threatening me will make me tell you anything?"

"You owe me the truth, Stiles," Rafael ground out. Then he went for the jugular. "I saved your life!"

"Yeah, well I didn't ask you to!" The teen clarified with equal venom.

Rafael looked deep into the honey colored eyes of his son's best friend, searching for something he couldn't name. This was not the same goofy little kid who used to instigate all sorts of trouble for the boys. This was someone who had faced death, survived and walked right back into the fray.

Once again, he was struck by the youth's lack of regard for his own life. A trait he was finding more and more of in this town as he mentioned to Scott before he left. They were kids; _children_; and yet they gave the impression of warriors, soldiers. Having survived and dealt with way more than any child ever should. It was cause of the gnawing sensation that had settled in his gut. The one that told him, something was wrong here.

While his mind was racing with thoughts, theories, ideas, and instincts, his mouth decided to head off in another direction. With a steady, calm voice, he asked, "Why?"

Thrown completely off-kilter by the question, Stiles took an awkward step back. "What? What do you mean _why_?"

Sensing the tide turn in his favor, Rafael pressed, "You said you didn't ask for me to save you. Given the choice, would you? Would you have wanted me to save you?" The answering silence revealed more than any stumbling words could have let alone the sudden expression of a deer caught in headlights that came over the boy. "So the question is, Stiles, _why_ didn't you want to be saved?"

Stiles took another step back while Rafael advanced, cornering the boy. Confidence surged with a hint of darker emotions rolling around his heart, like he knew what he was about to say was truth; truth that could expose the wound festering deep within. As he drove the hard question home, it gave him a sick sense of power and satisfaction. "Or is it really, why don't you think you _deserve_ to be saved?"

Panic poured off Stiles – breaths coming shallow and fast, eyes wide and fearful. But even more noticeable, the lack of words spilling from the kid's mouth. There were rare moments when Stiles' was rendered speechless, so Rafael knew he had hit on something significant. Before he could push the issue any further, Stiles' flight-or-fight instinct kicked in. "I have to go," he managed to whisper then darted for the door.

Shocked, Rafael called after him, "Stiles!"

The teen paused before opening the door, "Tell Scott I'll talk to him later. That I couldn't stay. That I'm sorry." Then he was gone.

Rafael, hurried after him. A voice in the back of his mind that he often tried to ignore, reminded him that his actions that chased Stiles away had been less than admirable. But there was nothing he could do about it now. He was tired of being left in the dark, and he was prepared to do what he had to. Even if it meant pushing too far. He just assumed it would have been his own son and not the Sherriff's. Still he had not meant to scare Stiles away just to get the truth. What truth would he get now alone at the bottom of the steps to his family's home?

Stiles already had the Jeep started and was pulling out of the drive faster than safety dictated. In the distance, Raf heard the sound of a motor bike approaching and cringed. Skidding to a halt at the end of the drive at the site of Stiles' speeding Jeep, Scott yanked off his helmet, shouting, "Stiles!" But it was too late. The blue Jeep turned a corner and vanished from sight. Turning an accusing look at his father, Scott demanded, "What the hell happened? Why did Stiles leave?"

His father sighed and answered, "He said he was sorry he couldn't stay and that he would talk to you later."

"You didn't answer my question," Scott growled. "Stiles wouldn't leave like that unless something happened. So what did you do? What did you say to him?"

Glancing around the quiet street bathed in the early light of dawn, he implored, "Why don't we take this discussion indoors before we wake the neighborhood?"

Scott relented angrily parking his bike and storming inside.

The Agent watched his son stomp away, shaking his head, he did not look forward to this conversation. Somehow, he always managed to start on the wrong foot with his son. He wondered if he would ever get it right. Sighing, he knew that it wouldn't matter now and he may as well get this over with.

Following Scott inside, he found the seething boy in the living room. "So what happened?!"

Taking authoritative control of the dialogue, Rafael ignored the question and explained why he was here in the first place and what he really wanted. "Remember what we talked about before I left, in the Sherriff's station? I told you there was something going on in this town and you kids seemed to know more than what you were letting on. And I think that the Sherriff and your mother know about it too. I also said that when I got back, no more lies. I want the truth and you're going to tell me."

- TW – TW – TW – TW –

Well, originally this fic was intended to be a one shot, but thanks to some encouragement it looks like I managed another chapter. Hope you enjoyed. I hope to get another chapter up on _Penance and Damnation_ next Friday.

Special thanks to Guest, cha and Guest for reviewing and encouraging my muse. Please keep the faves and reviews coming!

Until next week,

~Ari :D


	3. Trust

Trust

"No. You don't get to make demands." The Alpha would not be intimidated. "You don't get to come in here and disrupt our lives. You are a guest here."

"I'm you fath-"

"No, you are a sperm donor for all I care about. You left. Now you have to earn the right to be my father again. And right now, I don't care what you want. I don't care what you think. This is my house, my family. And Stiles is my brother. All I know is that when I talked to Stiles before he was fine. And suddenly he's gone without talking to me? That's your fault. So what happened?"

Sighing, Rafael realized he may have screwed up big time. He hadn't even been back an hour and already they were at war. How did things get so out of control so fast? So much for starting over. "Look, we barely talked for five minutes. I can't help it if he decides to bolt."

"What the hell did you talk about? Because he was coming here to talk to me and he knew I needed to talk to him. So unless he got very upset or something incredibly important suddenly came up, he wouldn't just leave without telling me first. I've known him a hell of a lot longer than you and even I could see something was wrong. He looked pissed." Ok, maybe in truth it was his wolf senses that told him that Stiles had been angry and afraid. The scent still lingered in the house. The question was _why_ Stiles was afraid. And the only logical answer was because of his father.

"You barely saw him for a moment and from a distance no less!"

"Stop stalling and tell me!" The Alpha barely contained his roar. Anger brimmed beneath the surface.

The FBI Agent glared at his son heatedly, the internal debate weighed his options and concluded if he had any chance of getting what he wanted he would have to give a little first. Releasing another heavy sigh, he acquiesced. "Fine. You want to know what we talked about? Truth is it was the same thing I asked you. I'm actually willing to bet that he knows equal if not more about what the hell is happening in this town as you. And since you weren't here I asked _him_."

Scott listened to the older man's heart beat and other than a momentary skip it was strong and steady. So either he was telling the truth, possibly a half truth or he was a really good liar. But then again, being an FBI Agent probably meant he was a good liar, they probably had classes on it. Still Scott had to give him the benefit of the doubt for now.

After all it was no secret that his father didn't like Stiles for some strange reason and they often butted heads. Why would now be any different? But that didn't explain the fear his best friend felt. Problem was how to ask without having to explain how he knew Stiles had been afraid, which would ultimately lead to being a werewolf. Scott growled in frustration. "And that's all you talked about?"

"Yes!" This time however there was the tiniest increase in the man's heartbeat, barely noticeable, but he caught it. So, half truth. There was something more to their talk that upset his friend.

"Are you sure there was nothing else?" Scott pressed.

"What makes you think there was?" Rafael deflected. "This is Stiles we're talking about. Maybe he was tired. Maybe he was more upset about whatever the hell happened tonight than he led you to believe. Maybe he's had way too much Adderall and too little sleep. Maybe he just decided to leave. It's Stiles. You can never tell what's going through his head half the time."

While there was an element of truth in what his father said, Scott recognized a diversionary tactic when he saw one. Ironically enough it was Stiles who showed him that trick. He was not fooled, nor was he amused at the dig at his brother. "Don't talk about him like that. He may have his quirks but he is way more than you give him credit for. And that still doesn't explain why he left. So do you want to tell me what really happened or not?"

Exasperated by the repetitive question, Rafael groaned. "I already told you." But Scott's disbelieving scowl remained in place. "I swear, we really hadn't talked that long and the only definitive thing I got out of him was that the Dead pool was shut down."

Scott's eyes quickly widened before he schooled his reaction. As far as he knew, his father was aware of assassins in Beacon Hills but not exactly why and for whom. If Stiles had been distressed over the evening's events, it is possible he may have imparted that information on accident. He wondered how much more his father knew now. "Yeah. It's over," was all he offered.

"Mind elaborating more on exactly how that happened? Stiles was a little light on the details."

"Actually no. One, because you don't need to know right now and two, because I don't know the details! That was part of the reason I was meeting Stiles. And now that he's gone, I can't get that information, can I?"

"Then call him and ask." The agent reasoned aloud.

"I'm not calling him. I'll just meet him before school. Which I would like to get ready for since you already ruined any chance of doing what I wanted before I have to leave. Which is what you can do right now. And I know you already know how to let yourself out. Old habits die hard right?" Scott felt a slight pang of guilt at the spiteful remark, but this man deemed it his duty to mess with their already messed up lives. And he was sure he hurt Stiles somehow. And he was tired. And he was achy. And he had two tests today he hadn't studied for. He just wasn't in the mood to deal with his father anymore.

Rafael swallowed hard at that last comment. Then he steeled his emotions and shored up the walls he had lived behind for so long. "I did not come back for you to take pot shots at me. I came back because I'm sorry about leaving and I want to be a part of yours and your mother's lives again."

"But that's the problem. It's not just about mom and me anymore. If you want back into this family you have to accept _all _ of us. And that means you have to make it right with _all_ of us, including people you may not want to deal with. This house may just hold mom and me, but this family is a whole lot bigger." Scott spoke deliberately, knowing the man would get his meaning, "I have a brother, and a father." After the pregnant pause, he continued. "And I have other brothers and sisters and cousins and uncles. _We_ are _family_." But what he really wanted to say was _pack._ Although in Scott's mind, they were one in the same word.

Rafael stood dumbfounded. It suddenly struck him exactly how long he had been absent in his son's life. This wasn't the little kid who stumbled over his own feet and cried when he scraped his knee. No this was a mature young man standing on the cusp of adulthood. He had missed the golden years when a young boy needed his father's guidance. His place would never be the one he imagined when he returned to Beacon Hills. No, he would have to find a new role and he didn't have a lot of options.

More importantly, he was the outsider, the intruder. They didn't need to adapt to his presence rather, he would have to adapt to their world. He would have to be the one to walk on eggshells, tread carefully, regain their trust, since he was the one to break it. Clearing his throat and standing up tall, Rafael accepted the challenge. "If that's what it takes, then I'll do it."

At Scott's slack jawed shock, Raf could feel the corners of his mouth turning up. His son obviously wasn't expecting him to say such a thing. But now that it was out in the open, he was glad of it. Because it was the truth. "I told you before Scott, I'm here to rebuild our relationship, make amends for my past. So if that means I have to work a little harder, then I'll do it."

Now it was Scott's turn to grin. "Thanks dad, you don't know how much that means to me."

"It means just as much to me too, son. I knew coming back to Beacon Hills wouldn't be easy. I was just hoping that it wouldn't be so hard either. But I see now, and I accept it. So what is it you want me to do?"

Taken aback by the question, the teen slowly sank down in one of the chairs to think for a moment. So much had happened over the past few weeks, hell the past year. So much his dad didn't know about. And yet, he still wasn't ready to dump all that on the man right now. Deciding on a course of action, he looked up at his father. "I want you to trust me. It's just too much to deal with and I don't know how well I can trust you. There's a lot more going on than you can even imagine. You aren't ready for it yet. And when it's time, you'll probably wish you didn't know. So just give it time, give us _both_ time."

"Well, I'm not happy about it, but I think I understand. I want to be here for you Scott, and your mother. And I want you to trust me. I realize when I walked out that I broke that trust. It's not easy to get back once it's been broken. So if it's time you need, then ok." Rafael stood there watching his son, extending the proverbial olive branch. He just hoped it would be enough. Maybe there was more he could offer. "Is there anything else I can do now?"

Just then the buzzing of Scott's cell interrupted. Pulling it out like it was on fire, the teen read the text and sent a quick reply. It took another few heartbeats before the phone buzzed again. Sighing in relief, he leaned back in the chair. For those few moments, Scott forgot he wasn't alone. So when he looked up at the man hovering nearby, the conversation rushed back to him along with the last offer. Bouncing up, he announced, "Actually, yeah. I want you to apologize to Stiles."

Scoffing, Raf couldn't keep the hint of irritation from his voice. "Apologize? What for?"

"For whatever you said that upset him."

"Come on, now this is ridiculous. I shouldn't have to apologize."

"Why not? I know you two never got along but he's been through a lot recently. He doesn't need your issues piled onto his shoulders right now. And I told you, if you want to make amends, you need to do it with all of us, including Stiles."

"Look Scott, I'm not apologizing for trying to get the truth out of Stiles. It's for his own good."

"How can harassing him be for his own good?"

"This time, you're going to have to trust me. This is between Stiles and myself."

"If it involves Stiles, then it involves me. He's my best friend, my brother and I care about him."

"And you think I don't?"

Scott shrugged his shoulder and cautiously began, "Well, you two haven't had the best track record."

"I can't believe this," the agent muttered. "You know, just because Stiles and I don't get along doesn't mean I don't care." But at his son's still unconvinced expression, he began pulling out the evidence for his own defense. "I didn't have to go pull him from that coyote den when he was sleepwalking." Scott seemed to consider this, but held onto that doubt. Rafael would have to pull out the big guns if he had any hope of convincing his son. "If I didn't care, I wouldn't have saved him from that assassin!"

A look of horror washed over Scott's face and Raf knew immediately he had screwed up again. "What?!"

- TW – TW – TW – TW –

Well, this is exciting! With all the lovely feedback I got last chapter my muse was inspired to give you another this week in addition to PnD! I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you everyone!

Quick shout out to C, Guest, Coerdange, Jj and Guest. Much love for you.

Keep those faves, alerts and reviews a-coming! Oh and I forgot to mention last week that I'm getting back in the digital world to connect again with people. I have been out of it for while. So feel free to look me up on FB and Twitter(see profile.) And if anyone is willing to teach an old dog new tricks, I would appreciate a crash course in twitter. As of now, I'm practically clueless. Lol.

If all goes well, I will try and post another chapter next Friday. Now, my daughter and I are off to see _Maze Runner_. Toddles, y'all.

~Ari ;D


	4. Revelation

"What!? What do you mean _saved_ him from an _assassin_?" Scott demanded.

Rafael backpedaled but knew it would most likely prove useless. "Just that there were all those assassins around recently." Quickly he added, hoping to distract his son from the true reason, "Do you know how long I've been tracking the Orphans? Imagine my surprise when they turn up right here, in Beacon Hills High School no less."

It didn't work. Scott ground out, "That wasn't who you were talking about."

While that was true, now that he thought about it, Rafael remembered being pulled from the totaled SUV by Sheriff Stilinski when they were transporting Violet. Some large creature had stepped in front of the vehicle and ultimately knocked him out. But somewhere when he was drifting in and out of consciousness he thought he heard someone shout Scott. "Maybe not, but that does remind me of another incident that I think you know more about than you're letting on. Why don't we discuss what happened the night Violet was taken?"

"No, we're talking about Stiles." Like a dog – or wolf, as it were – with a bone, Scott would not let the subject go.

Sighing, he wiped a hand down his face. _GIVE and take_, Raf reminded himself. Thinking carefully, he decided that he wouldn't necessarily volunteer the information but maybe if Scott guessed enough to satisfy then they could move on. Perhaps, just enough of a hint would get his son on the right path. "Scott, I know you're a bright kid. I'm sure you already have some idea of what happened."

It only took a couple of moments for Scott to think it over. Searching his memory he tried to place when Stiles and his father would have interacted recently. Gradually, the pieces starting falling into place. "The school, when we took our PSAT's?"

Rafael gave no indication of acknowledgment or denial. He had played this game long enough to know when to reveal his hand. And he had promised Stiles that he wouldn't tell Scott. However, he never said anything about Scott figuring it out on his own.

The teen was racing through his memories at lightning speed now. Another moment sprang to the forefront of his thoughts. That night at the Sheriff Station, Scott recalled the notes his father made before leaving. _'Preliminary notes on fire arm discharge incident. Assailant armed with sound suppressor with altered P88. Having heard the perpetrator's threat and countdown, I made visual confirmation of the barrel of the weapon pressed to the potential victim's head. Determining the danger to be imminent, I felt no choice but to respond with the use of deadly force.'_

Squeezing the words past taut vocal chords, Scott thought aloud, "There was blood on his face and clothes. It wasn't his." Then looking up at his father he stated, "You killed the assassin." At that Raf nodded. It was the reason he had to leave for the review, no need to hide that fact. "_Stiles_ was the potential victim? You said the barrel of the weapon was pressed to his head? Danger was imminent? Deadly force!" His chest felt like it was caving in. Stiles had almost been killed at the school by the assassin. And he wasn't even on the Dead pool!

Scott couldn't breathe. His vision tunneled. Stiles had almost died. Again. He could have lost his best friend, his brother a week ago. And Stiles never said a thing! Why couldn't he _breathe_?

"Scott, Scott, listen to me son, you need to calm down. You need to breathe. Come on, Scott," Rafael desperately tried to bring his son back to reality. Realizing he wasn't getting through he started glancing around for the inhaler. Not seeing it, he started to panic. "Scott, where's your inhaler? You need to calm down and breathe but I can't find your inhaler. You need your inhaler."

"My inhaler?" Confused, Scott couldn't fathom why his father was going on about that now. "I don't need my inhaler. I need Stiles!"

"Well, Stiles isn't here right now, so let's find your inhaler before the attack gets worse."

A surge of emotion coursed through the werewolf and in the same instant he pushed his father away and growled, "I Don't Need My Inhaler!" And it was a good thing Rafael was stumbling backward because he missed the red glow of his son's eyes. Unfortunately, no one could miss the unearthly Alpha undercurrent in Scott's voice. He spun around to vainly hide the transformation from his father.

Shocked to find himself on the ground, Raf watched the teen's shoulders heave while Scott gulped down precious air. "What the hell just happened?" ghosted past his lips.

"That's exactly what I would like to know." Melissa announced from the doorway. With knowing eyes, she drank in the scene and immediately noticed her son's distress. Ignoring her ex-husband, she hurried to Scott's side. "Scott, honey, you need to calm down, ok?" Her gentle voice eased the tension. His sharp gaze focused on the woman who raised him.

The raging current of emotions that was flooding his body abruptly dammed up and trickled to a halt. "Mom?"

"That's right, sweetie. I'm here now. And whatever upset you, we can work through it. You know we can." She was babbling as she had no idea what was going on let alone how to fix it. But she was a mom, first and foremost, and she wanted to make the pained expression on her son's face go away. So she would say anything and everything to achieve her goal. "Now does somebody want to tell me what's going on?" She finally turned her attention to the man she once loved expectantly.

Raf picked himself up off the ground. He had forgotten this woman's wrath during his long absence. But now that it was directed at him again, he felt himself squirm a little under her glare. "We were just talking," he groused. He didn't know why he offered her any form of explanation even though he still found himself giving her one.

"It didn't look much like talking." At the brief silence that followed, Melissa switched topics – for now. "When the hell did you get back in town?"

"Just a few hours ago. I wanted to see you two."

"Yeah, I'll bet," she mumbled under her breath. Offering before he could ask, Melissa continued, "You can't have the guest room or the couch, which is being reserved for the DVR marathon I was hoping to do this afternoon. Why do I get the feeling that's been cancelled now? So anyone care to fill me in?" She placed her hands on her hips and her gaze bounced back and forth between the men; waiting for that explanation.

Raf threw his hands up in surrender. "I already told you we were just talking."

Recognizing that she was going to get nothing from her Ex, she turned to her son. Immediately, her glare softened. He still looked upset, eyes glistening and she had no idea why. "Honey, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Stiles…"

Concerned now, she glanced back at Raf and frowned. He was here, her son was upset and she suddenly feared the worst had happened. "Is he alright? Raf?!"

"He's fine." The FBI Agent reassured her.

Placing a hand over her heart, she breathed, "Oh, thank god."

"How can you say that?" Scott accused.

Melissa was utterly confused now. Was Stiles ok or not? Taking in the standoff between father and son, she knew something more was going on. "I'm missing something, aren't I?"

"Remember when we were quarantined at the school?" Scott began.

Nodding, Melissa answered, "Of course. How could I forget?" Visions of Derek, Satomi and her dying packmate flashed through her mind.

"Stiles… the assassin…." Scott had a difficult time wrapping his head around what had happened since he wasn't there, let alone trying to explain it.

Melissa looked to her Ex again for support, unfortunately, he couldn't give it. The proverbial cat may have been let out of the bag, but he still had the promise to Stiles to consider. Technicalities and circumstance aside.

"He almost died." Her son managed to finally whisper.

Terror gripped her heart. "No, he's human. He got better just like everyone else," she reasoned.

"It must have happened when he went to find out what was going on. After we found the mushrooms, he had blood on his clothes."

Curious, Raf inquired, "And you didn't ask him about it?"

Scott shook his head. "I knew it wasn't his, that he was ok. Besides, we were still a little out of it and he had other issues on his mind." Malia walking away had been difficult for all of them, especially Stiles.

"And later?"

"We kinda got separated and I figured if it had been important he would tell me eventually." Looking back at Melissa, hurt and fear returned to his eyes. "I was wrong. That assassin held a gun to Stiles' head, mom."

"What?"

"He was counting down. Stiles could have died, if not for…" Together they turned toward the FBI Agent. "You shot the assassin. You _saw_ the gun pressed to Stiles' head. You _heard_ the threat and the countdown. But you fired first. You killed him. That's how Stiles got the blood on him."

Rafael was proud of his son, despite the situation. Scott had taken all the pieces and put them together. The details may not have all been in there but he got the gist. Scott knew the truth. He had not told, per his promise. There was no need to conceal it any longer. He gave them a curt nod.

Scott felt numb. Why hadn't he figured all this out before? Deep down he guessed what had happened while they were still in the vault. But he just didn't want to think about it at the time. It was too much to handle. And after, things had gotten out of control. They never really had the chance to talk about that day. But the Dead pool was gone now. No more distractions. No more excuses. Scott had questions and he was going to get answers. "I need to talk to Stiles."

"Wait, Scott," Rafael blocked his path to the door. "We're not finished yet."

"I have to talk to Stiles first." Determined, Scott met his father's eyes. "Then I'll come back and we'll talk. I promise."

The teen didn't wait for a reply. He stepped around the man and was gone.

- TW – TW – TW – TW –

A-hem. Well, I hope this chapter wasn't too much of a disappointment. I really wasn't sure where this fic was headed, so I wasn't sure how this chapter would turn out. I still have no clue how this is all going to resolve itself, I never intended for it to go past the initial Tag. lol. So, I'm just as anxious as all of you to see where this goes!

Anywho, yesterday, I posted a little scene that was nagging me called _Rough Night_. And as I mentioned there, writing time was very limited this week so no new chapter for PnD. :( I know how disappointed you all must be, ok maybe not so much, but I'm still sorry! As a result, I have decided that next week I am focusing on the next chapter of PnD and _IF_ I have the time I will try and bang out another here. If I can't get to both, I will set a new schedule up to post still on Fridays but alternate between the two stories every other week. I hope you all can understand.

As I also mentioned before I'm diving into social media and got meself a tumblr account. So where can I post some prompts? I have a few I would like to read rather than write. Please, please, please let me know. Thank you!

_Maze Runner_ was fun last week. Congrats to all for a great opening weekend! Can't wait for _Scorch Trials_ next year. In the mean time, go support our loveable Stiles!

EDIT: Oh my god! I am such a tool! I forgot to do my shout outs. Please, please forgive me! So this one is for you guys; Che, Sarah and especially Coeurdange (Don't worry girl, you are doing great! Keep reviewing. –hugs-) All your words feed my muse!

Well, I've babbled on long enough. Thank you all for reading, reviewing, faveing and following! -Big hugs-

~Ari :D


	5. Protect

As soon as Stiles got home, he knew he had to send Scott a quick text. He owed his friend at least that much for bailing on him.

Not that he just decided he didn't want to wait around. No, he was driven out in some regard.

Sighing, he pulled out his phone and stared at the screen for a moment. He had no idea what to say. _Your dad's a total dick!_ Probably wasn't the best way to start. Instead, he settled on, _Sorry, couldn't stay. Meet at school early?_

Only a moment later, he got a reply. _Yeah. You ok?_

_Fine. See ya then._ Sliding his phone back in his pocket, Stiles glanced around the dark and empty house. His dad was knee deep in clean up duty after what happened with Peter and Meredith, and more than likely any disturbance reported that would lead to Argent's warehouse.

Life had gotten super busy for the Stilinski's since Scott was bitten. From both sides of the same coin, they had worked to bring Beacon Hills back into order. The only good thing was that they could now work together rather than separately.

Bypassing the kitchen, Stiles ran up to his room. He looked at the disheveled bed with mixed feelings. His body was exhausted and would very much like to collapse on it and sleep for at least 12 hours. While at the same time, even though he was exhausted, he was past the point of sleeping and his mind raced with a thousand different thoughts which would keep him up for hours and thus make it time to go to school, so no point in sleeping anyway. Nothing some Adderall and Red Bull couldn't cure. Besides he was used to heavy medication and long hours now.

Glancing over his Case board, he sighed. There were still too many questions. The Dead pool may have been shut down, and the Benefactor may have been identified, but there were still some logistics to consider. Like who programmed the computers and why were they in the Lake House? If Lydia's grandmother came up with the Dead pool, how was she involved with Peter? Was their only connection Meredith and/or Brunski at Eichen House? See, he could keep going with a hundred more questions had anyone been there to listen.

But no, FBI Agent Mc_Asshole_ (Sorry, Scott, no offense) had to ruin their meeting which left Stiles' alone with his thoughts and questions. Never a good thing.

Instead of brooding, Stiles decided to take a super quick shower just to freshen up before school. Once that was done, he walked back into his room to get dressed. Feeling better, the teen sat down in his desk chair just to chill for a moment. His gaze settled once more on the case board.

A not so long ago memory popped into his head. After the whole sacrifice thing was over, Stiles had asked his father for the Case board for his birthday. For most people it would have been such a bizarre request, but not the Stilinski's. Father and son were of one mind when it came to protecting their town. And since some things could not be put up on the official Case board in the station, it would be easier for the pair to work on special cases together from home.

So Stiles was even more surprised when he got home from school one day to find not only his dad home and making dinner, but a snazzy new toy in his bedroom. They had talked some more about incidents over the past year and it was really nice not having to lie to his dad anymore – mostly. Some things he still kept close to the chest out of habit. But when the time was right, Stiles would bring his dad in the loop. All in all, it made hunting down evil a lot easier with both Stilinski's on the case. Two sides of the same coin…

Wait, he had been down this train of thought already. _Damn concussions!_ How he hated having his brain scrambled. And this was becoming more of a habit lately. Being human sucked. No special healing powers or fast reflexes or enhanced senses. Mind you, Stiles would still say no to the Bite. There were too many additional complications that came with the wolfy boost. So yeah, being human sucked but he was still good with it.

Glancing at his clock, the teen groaned loudly. (Hey, no one home to hear so why not go all out?) Too much time left til school, but not enough to really accomplish anything. These moments frustrated Stiles to no end. Spinning around he booted up his computer. He could at least start on some research. OK, so he didn't know exactly what he was going to research yet, but he knew there was something he needed to look into. There always was nowadays.

With thoughts about as likely to be nailed down as water, the teen felt a snack might help him focus. He had made it downstairs, managed to rummage through the fridge and pantry to settle on a few Oreos for the sugar boost, when he heard a knock on his door. Actually, it was more like a pounding.

He wasn't expecting anyone. Who the hel…?

"Stiles! You in there?"

"Scott?" Curiosity mixed with fear twisted in his gut. Promptly ignoring the snacks he was gathering, he hurried to the door to admit his best friend. "What are you doing here? I thought we were going to meet at the school?"

Taking a bold step inside, Scott declared, "This couldn't wait."

"What? What happened? Is everyone alright? Your mom, she's ok, right? Is it Kira? What? What is it?" Stiles' mouth ran a mile a minute never giving Scott the option to cut in. "Oh my god, Lydia? No, no Malia and Peter? I knew that man was up to no good!"

"Stiles, Stop!"Scott managed to finally break the string of words when Stiles gasped for a breath. "This has nothing to do with them. They're all fine."

The swell of panic quickly drained at the Alpha's reassurance. But the curiosity returned tenfold. "Then what are you doing here?"

"We need to talk."

"Okay."

"No, _WE_ need to talk." Scott attempted to emphasize the words with hidden meaning. Unfortunately, it just wasn't coming across.

"Again, okay. You do realize we are in fact talking right?" The lanky, pale skinned teen remarked casually.

"Quit it. I'm being serious."

"So am I Scott, problem is I have no idea what you are _trying_ to talk about. Is this about what happened at the Warehouse tonight?"

"No. This is about what happened at the school," and before Stiles could ask, he clarified, "When we were locked in the vault. What happened?"

For an instant sheer terror flitted across those pale features. Fear gripped his heart because he knew this was about the assassin, a topic he never wanted to discuss, especially with Scott. Schooling his expression back to one of indifference and annoyance, he started, "Dude, we already went over this. That guy who was running the test was trying to kill you with a virus. He started threatening to kill people unless we gave you up. Then your dad shot him in the head, told me about the antidote which saved your life and everything went back to normal. End of story."

"But it's not, is it? You love details. I've read a lot of your reports for school. You never have trouble filling the pages with tons and tons of details. Unless they reveal something you don't want to share. I let it go because we still weren't all feeling good. And then Malia left. I should have realized something was wrong even then. You left out a lot of details."

"Scott, why are you doing this to yourself? It's over. The Dead pool is gone. We're safe. Why can't we just relax for a little while and enjoy the moment?"

"Because this moment may not have even happened!"

"Come on, Scott. Don't do this to yourself. You'll go crazy thinking about those _What ifs_, right? We survived. We made it. Move on."

"No. I won't move on until I know you won't do anything stupid."

"Too late for that, eh Scotty?" Stiles desperately tried to steer the conversation away with humor. It was getting entirely too close to that dark part of his mind that was never meant to be seen by another soul.

But the Alpha held firm. Enough skirting around the issue, it was now or never. "You can't die, Stiles. I won't let you," Scott swore. Allison's death was difficult to deal with. But it would pale in comparison if he lost the only other constant in his life. He wouldn't be able to go on without his brother. Heartbroken eyes glistened with unshed tears.

It was enough to stop Stiles from offering up any further weak jokes about his mortality. In fact, he felt his chest tighten in response to the raw emotion. "Dammit, Scott," he whispered as he turned away and ran a hand through his hair. "You can't protect me forever."

"I can try."

Turning back around, Stiles reminded, "Yeah, well, so can I."

"But you could get hurt!"

"So could you!"

"I can heal."

"That doesn't make you immortal, Scott." His long arms swung out wide, in a gesture of mild frustration. "Just gives you a quicker recovery time."

Anxiously, Scott stepped forward. "Which means you should just leave the fighting to me."

Stubborn as always, Stiles would not back down. "Not all battles are settled with punches and blood, ya know. And don't ask me to sit on the sidelines when your life is in danger. I've had enough of that. I won't do it. Not when there's something I can do to protect you. All of you."

"But at the cost of your own life?" The question squeezed past tight vocal chords.

"Yes, absolutely, Yes!"

"No, it's not worth _your_ life."

"But it's worth yours?" Stiles demanded. Again swiping his hand through his hair, the teen tried to get his point across. "God, Scott, do you have any idea of how many times I came close to watching you die and I couldn't do a damn thing about it? Hell, we killed you to try and draw the Benefactor out! My idea by the way, so you know how stupid it was. I still can't believe we went through with it. And then I had to watch you die and pretend that your mom's reaction to the news didn't bother me, which damn near killed me, in case you were wondering." At Scott's stunned expression, Stiles hoped his rant enlightened his best friend in some way. And if that wasn't enough to convince him, maybe this would do it. "So do you really want me to go through each and every one of them because it might take a while and I'm not really sure I'm up to reliving all those memories, but I will if you want."

Fortunately, his speech had the desired effect. Chagrined, Scott's own roiling emotions wavered in light of his friend's confession. He hadn't really thought about how hard it must be for the human in their pack to always be left in the wings while the main event was going down. Scott couldn't imagine waiting and watching while his family fought for their lives. The only thing that came close was the Nogitsune and how it had tortured the quirky teen. That drive to save his friend, even if it was from himself, is what compelled him to find a way to fight the evil spirit without killing the host. Even the memories of that time still caused him to shudder.

Now, he understood how difficult it must have been for Stiles when their roles were reversed. Sorrow echoed in his words, along with regret and sympathy. "Stiles, I didn't know."

Some of the anger faded. This was a breakthrough for both of them. Stiles had been unable to voice his thoughts before but he always did work well under pressure. And this talk was long overdue, truth be told. Clearing his throat, he agreed, "That's right, you didn't know. And there was no need for you to know because it's over and you're alive. I got over it. But at the school, when you were all dying from that virus that jerk made up, it was my choice. And I wouldn't – couldn't give you up no matter what. Because you weren't in any shape to even attempt to take him on. So it was either me or you. No contest, dude. Because if I gave you up, it wasn't just you that was going to die, but you, Malia and Kira. And it would be my fault! Everyone around me, dead because of me! And we've already lost too much. So don't ask me to …"

He left the sentence hanging, too many emotions to try and wrap up in a few words. He would protect them with his life, but damn it, he couldn't live if they had died. Not another soul should be wasted on him. He didn't deserve it. Not after…

"I'm sorry." Scott interrupted the slippery slope his thoughts were taking and pulled him back to the living world. "I didn't mean… It's just, you're my best friend. My brother. I don't want to lose you."

"And I don't want to lose you either, Scott. But don't expect me to sit back in every fight." Once again he allowed his wry sense of humor to alter the course of the conversation, a cheeky grin played at the corner of his mouth. "You can't be Batman all the time."

"I'm not Batman any of the time." Stiles rolled his eyes, they had this conversation once before, what seemed like ages ago. But Scott wasn't quite finished. "Batman doesn't have any super powers. He has to rely on his wits, just like you."

Stiles snorted. He wasn't expecting such a revelation to come from his pop ignorant friend. Of course, he was right, in a way. Batman/Robin - either role didn't matter because of all the Super heroes, they weren't special. Sure they had money and gadgets on their side, but they were still just humans out for Justice. Smirking, he teased, "So I'm Batman now, huh?"

"Always have been, dude." They laughed. The levity began to ease the tension between them.

"So what does that make you then? Superman?"

"Sure." Scott shrugged. "They were friends right?"

"Ugh, why do I even bother with you?" A thought struck him. "Wait, does that make my dad Commissioner Gordon?"

The dynamic duo allowed the mirth to wash away the lingering darkness and accepted the slight reprieve. After all, one battle may have been averted, but there was another just around the corner.

- TW - TW - TW - TW -

Sorry for the delay in posting. As of this afternoon, I had about 5 sentences typed and hadn't even thought about any of these stories since last Friday. This conversation wasn't exactly what I expected but then again this fic never is.

I will try and get something done for PnD this weekend, but I'm not promising anything.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It was a bit more difficult to write than I thought. And editing when you keep nodding off is really hard! So please forgive any typos and such I may have made.

Now just a quick FYI, I have been a fan of Dick Grayson for a long time, since like Burt Ward days, so it always breaks my heart to hear people knock Robin and call him a sidekick. To be honest I think being a sidekick is even harder than the hero. You have more to prove. Bad guys are always gunning for you because they assume you are the weak link. They have to train harder and juggle more than just crime fighting. And they have to have the courage to take on the bad guys even if the Hero is knocked out. I also recognize that amongst the Superhero community few are strait up human. Most have an ability or special power that gives them an advantage. But for Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson - even Jason Todd, Tim Drake and Barbara Gordon, their only special power was driving determination. If not for that drive, they wouldn't have trained to be the best at everything and set out on the journey to find justice. So regardless if they are Hero or Sidekick, the bat family is something I respect.

OK, rant aside, it's time to post this bad boy before I fall asleep on my keyboard and you see a long line of random letters.

Once again, my muse and I thank you all for reading, reviewing, faving and following this fic. Your words of encouragement are always an inspiration for my muse. Quick shout out to Sarah! Thanks girl. :)

Until next week,

~Ari :D


	6. Truth

Scott didn't return home after their talk. His father could wait. Instead the two teens hung out and bantered for the first time in ages. Soon enough it was time to get to school and the pair drove together in the Jeep.

Even school had felt like the old days; back before every day was werewolf driven. Of course they had more friends now but still, it was nice just to be normal for a change. Worrying about tests and pimples and not making a complete ass out of yourself. Lunch was all complaining about their crappy food, anecdotes of the day's mishaps and planning for the weekend.

It had felt so normal that Stiles could almost forget the weight that still clung to his heart. Ignore the despair that threatened at the edge of his consciousness. Because despite feeling a little lighter now that his secret was out with Scott, there was still one aspect that remained undiscovered. Yes, Scott knew Stiles had faced death head on, literally, but he neglected to ask the all important question. For which Stiles was immensely grateful. _Did you want to die?_

No was the obvious answer and he meant it. If Stiles could avoid death at any cost, he would. However, if a moment such as the incident in the school were to happen again? If death decided to call and collect regardless? And if it meant he could protect his friends and family and pay back even the tiniest amount of the incredible debt he owed the world? He wasn't entirely sure the answer would be the same.

In fact, he doubted he would be entirely opposed to the idea. After all that has happened over the past few years he had brought nothing but grief and pain to those he cares about, not to mention all the innocents that had been caught in the cross fire. Sure, the _What if_ game could play havoc with your mind. What if Scott hadn't been bitten that night in the woods? Peter was going to bite someone, anyone he could find. It could have been Matt or Jackson or any number of equally douchey people. Then where would they be? They wouldn't know anything that would be happening in the town and could easily be victims.

See? The list goes on and on. The Alpha pack still would have shown up. Their Darach of a teacher would have still sacrificed innocent people. If they weren't involved in the werewolf world, would their parents have been the final sacrifices offered to destroy the Alphas? Would the trio of worried teens still have taken their place and opened the door? Would the Nogistune still managed to get out and unleash chaos, pain and strife?

Or worse yet, without helping his dad on cases with knowledge of the supernatural, was it possible that his dad could be dead now? That he would be alone. Alone and confused and heartbroken.

Although, there is the other possibility that life would have gone on as normal, blissfully ignorant of the supernatural dangers in the world. The werewolves would have had their war and off'd each other making Beacon Hills the happy, safe little town it was before ruined their lives and Scott was bitten.

So yeah, let's just say an ADHD mind driven by Adderall running constantly in the background could still dabble with these thoughts despite the good humoured exterior that everyone saw. These were the lies, half-truths, whatever, that came easy to him. Mastered and PhD'd. The face called Stiles.

In any case, the day progressed as usual and when the time came, the pair got back in the Jeep and headed to Scott's house. And even though it had been left unsaid, they still needed to have the talk they were supposed to have the night before. Since Stiles' dad had the night shift, they decided to let the old man sleep undisturbed.

Pulling into the driveway, they noted the ominous black vehicle still sitting out front. Guess their luck couldn't hold out forever. Their adolescent humour quickly faded away and they entered the home with schooled expressions.

Agent McCall was sitting in the living room leafing through a box of files on the coffee table. When they entered, he acknowledged their presence and continued to work. However, he did address Scott briefly. "You didn't come back this morning."

"I know. Sorry, but we had things to take care of."

At this, the older man regarded the teens, setting his papers down. "I'm guessing things have been resolved."

The Dynamic Duo shared a quick glance before Scott turned back nodding. "Yeah. Where's mom?"

"Sleeping. I kept her up for a while; talking."

Scott and Stiles took a few steps into the room, feeling a shift in the tension. Trying to play off his question as casual curiosity, and failing, Scott inquired, "What about?"

Raf sighed and pointedly looked at his son. "You mostly. But more importantly, that there is something more happening in Beacon Hills." He noted the way both boys tensed up immediately then quickly relaxed. At least they tried to pretend to relax. "Something that a handful of you seem to know about but aren't sharing, including you two, your mother, the Sheriff, that Hale guy and a few of your friends. You promised me we would talk, I think now is as good a time as any."

As his father spoke, Scott's face gradually took on the deer-caught-in-headlights look. He turned to his best friend for guidance and found that Stiles' attention was on something else. An expression of intense furrowed scrutiny. The Alpha was about to ask Stiles about it when the other teen demanded, "How did you get those and what are you doing with them?"

"The Sheriff's station."

"I thought the investigation on my dad was over. Why do you have them?"

"Why? What is it?" Scott asked but was ignored.

Raf shrugged. "I still have to complete my task. I have to finish going over all the cases your father worked on. This box was sitting in his office which I hadn't seen before. So I took it so I can finish my job."

"You can't take those without his knowledge," Stiles argued.

Feeling the tension quickly building, Scott growled, "What is going on?"

Immediately sensing his friend's frustration, Stiles automatically went into prevent-the-wolf mode and explained, "Those are the cases that my dad's been working on again, like Malia's. The ones he has been trying to go over now that he has new information. The ones he forgot about when I …" _was possessed by that damn Nogitsune._ Was what he was going to say but decided to leave it hanging. Stiles ran a hand through his hair wearily.

Enlightened now, Scott turned back to his father accusing, "You said you weren't trying to get the Sheriff fired anymore. That you spoke up for him."

"And I did. He's still Sheriff, isn't he?"

"Then what are you doing with those files?"

Jumping up, Raf tried to keep calm and failed. "Because I am trying to figure out what the hell is going on here. And since no one will tell me I am going to go through every angle I can to find out. And I think there might be something in these files since Stilinski has kept them so guarded." Turning back to Stiles he added, "If you two would just tell me, I wouldn't have to hunt for clues and then I would be happy to give them back to you right now."

"I told you before, you really don't want to know." Stiles spoke through clenched teeth.

Desperate to defuse the situation, a loud growl reverberated through the living room, freezing the conversation. Elongated teeth and red glowing eyes were all the transformation he allowed, but it would be enough to kick off the long and difficult discussion to come.

"Scott?" Stiles breathed, recovering from his momentary shock, "What are you doing?"

"I promised him an explanation and he's going to get one whether he wants it or not."

"You can't do this. Remember what happened with your mom?"

"It's too late, Stiles. And he would find out eventually if he plans on staying in Beacon Hills. We may as well bring him in on the loop now."

"For the record, this is a very bad idea. It could put us in danger. It could put _him_ in danger. Do we really need to add to our already burdened lives?"

"Not knowing didn't do your father any good." Scott countered. "And it's not like he has no idea. He saw the Oni at the hospital and a Berserker attacked them when they were moving Violet. It's better if we just tell him."

"Fine. But it's on your head." Stiles' arms flung out in a its-on-you gesture and went to slump down in a chair. He may not like it but he would support his best friend's decision. He may as well be here to help correct and offer details when necessary. A heavy weariness settled over him and he could feel the dull ache that had been his constant companion since the Nogitsune was defeated pulse through him with growing intensity.

"What are you taking about Oni and Berserkers? And what the hell did you do just a minute ago?" Agent McCall demanded breathlessly. He was still trying to wrap his mind around what he just saw. His son's eyes had glowed. Glowed! And were those fangs? It had to have been his imagination. Hadn't it? But many of his fellow agents often joked that he had no imagination, so why suddenly get one now?

In a calm and placating tone, Scott began, "It would probably be easier if I started from the beginning."

"I highly doubt that." Stiles chipped in, not so helpfully from the peanut gallery. Scott glowered at him, but Stiles shrugged his shoulders and gave him a _it's true_ face in return.

Deciding it would be better just to ignore his friend, Scott returned his attention back to his dad and took a deep breath. "Dad, I know this is going to be hard to believe but, I'm a werewolf."

Stiles face-palmed himself and groaned.

Rafael stood there still with unblinking eyes for a good long minute before finally bursting with laughter. The explosive, guttural snort was quick and short and held all the ridicule and disbelief it could muster. Just as suddenly as the laughter came, it died a pitiful death, replaced with anger and indignation. "Don't joke with me son, I want the truth."

First looking at Scott with a gesture of _I told you so_, Stiles then peered up at the man and scoffed, "You can't handle the truth."

The tall, dominating, authoritative government agent put every ounce of restrained anger in the finger pointed at his son's best friend, "Watch it, Stilinski. I'm not in the mood to deal with your sarcasm."

"Like I care." He crossed his arms over his chest.

Scott stepped between them. "Stop it!" Again addressing his father, he continued, "You asked for the truth and I gave it to you whether you want to believe it or not. But you know what you saw, if you can come up with a better explanation, then go ahead. You saw the Oni show up out of thin air right in this room and at the hospital. And the Berserker that knocked over your car when you were taking Violet away. There are things out there, supernatural things and I'm one of them."

Rafael rubbed both hands over his face and paced back and forth, giving his mind time to digest what he had just been told. Slowly, lights began to go off and some of the questions that he had were beginning to find answers. He started speaking before his thoughts could catch up to his tongue. "The assassins. The deadpool. The target list, they're like you, aren't they?"

Nodding, Scott and Stiles shared another glance. This time Stiles' eyebrows were raised, surprised that the man was putting things together so quickly.

Collapsing back into the couch, Raf rubbed at his mouth and chin. "Ok. Start at the beginning. And no skipping or glossing over details. I want to know everything."

Scott sucked in a deep breath. It was going to be a LONG night.

- TW – TW – TW – TW –

So the cat's out of the bag. Hope you all enjoyed it.

Well, when I first started this fic it was meant to just be a one-shot tag to an episode. I forgot to mark it complete and some of you asked for more. Since the show did not address it, I felt safe that this could fill that gap at least until next season starts. The crux is that now that we have finally made it here, that Scott is telling his father about werewolves and everything else out there, I have absolutely no idea where to go. I had debated just posting a little prologue and being done with it or try to figure out a new direction for this story.

So the question to you, my friends, is what do you want? If you want more, where would you like to see this go? In other words, I am open to suggestions. Depending on your responses and ideas, I will let you all know next Friday what the outcome will be.

Just FYI, _Penance and Damnation_ was intended to be a multi-chap fic (primarily a vice to get some Stiles Angst and whumpage) so I will be continuing that in the meantime. Probably not today but definitely next week.

As always, thank you all for reading and offering your kind words of encouragement. They mean the world to me!

Quick Shout out to Sarah - Thanks for the review and I do enjoy Scott and Stiles Bromance moments too. ;)

So until next Friday, here's to wishing you all a frightfully good week and Halloween. I'm off to working on costumes again. Wish me luck!

Your humble author,  
~Ari :D


	7. Resolved

When it became apparent that this was going to take most of the night, Stiles headed into the kitchen to start dinner. Melissa came down shortly after, at which time she learned about the big reveal that was going on. Deciding it best to not get involved yet, she helped Stiles get the meal prepared.

They were almost done cooking when Melissa tentatively broached the subject. "I'm kind of relieved that the secrets will finally be over. Raf was asking me all sorts of questions earlier that I didn't know how to answer. This is good."

Stiles stirred the contents of the pot slowly. His voice strained yet soft. "Oh yeah, this is going to be awesome. Another one of our friends and family that is going to get caught up in the middle of all this garbage. Another person thinking they are capable facing the big bad supernatural any time they want and not get hurt or worse. Like we can afford to lose more."

Melissa could hear the bitter recrimination in the young man's tone. The mother in her immediately reached out and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized he had leaned into her touch. A desperate need so entrenched she doubted he even noticed what he did. Clearing her throat, she pressed on, "Hey, Stiles, this will be ok. We'll get through this. And yes, I think this will be better for all of us. The more people we have on our side the more resources we have when things get tough. And yes, people can get hurt but so could you and Scott. You can't protect everyone from what's out there. But you can give them the best chance to deal with it and fight to survive."

"Like Allison and Aiden?"

"Yes," she spoke firmly and grabbed his shoulder to force him to look at her. "Yes, Stiles. They fought because they cared about you guys. And yes we lost them because Evil was out there and sometimes things happen beyond our control."

"They weren't beyond _our_ control, it was beyond _mine!" _He hissed, releasing the self hatred inside. "They died because of _me_. And I can't let that happen again. Not to you or Scott or Lydia or even that jerk out there." He pointed toward the living room.

She snatched up her second son and pulled him into a tight hug. "God Stiles, you can't keep doing this to yourself. You can't keep blaming yourself for what that monster did. It wasn't your fault."

"Yes it is! It's all my fault!" Stiles broke free from the kind woman. He wasn't seeing her though, his gaze turned inward. Stumbling back into a corner, he kept speaking, the words draining his energy as he slid down the cabinets. "I let him in. I let him use me. I gave him permission to hurt my friends. I _helped_ him and they _died_ trying to save me!"

Heartbroken, Melissa sunk down next to him. She attempted to place a hand on his knee but he flinched away. "Oh sweetheart," she breathed, tears stinging her eyes. She didn't know what to do to ease his pain.

It was then that she realized someone was crouched down next to her. The Alpha could sense the turmoil coming from the kitchen and immediately reacted. Inching cautiously closer, he tried to break through to his best friend. "Stiles, listen to me. It wasn't your fault. It was that demon. _He_ killed Allison and Aiden. Not you. You would never have hurt them. Ever. It wasn't you."

Slowly caramel eyes turned to the Alpha, distant and lost. "But the door. I let him in. That's my fault."

But Scott was already shaking his head no. "No. That's not true. The door was opened in all of us. _We_ opened the door to save our parents. If anyone is to blame it was Jennifer's need for revenge. Or if we really want to get down to it, it was Kira's mom who released the Nogitsune to begin with long before we were even born."

Sounding small and tormented, Stiles deflected, "But I was weak. I let him in. He went through me because I was just a stupid human."

"No, you can't think like that. He went after you because he knew you were the strongest, smartest of all of us. He had to take you down or else you would stop him. You _did_ stop him."

"I was too late. We lost too much. I was weak and stupid."

"You're not weak or stupid, Stiles. You figure out things when no one else can. You figured out he was using you before any of us even knew what was happening and you fought him. You tried to stop him by locking yourself away at Eichen House. You told me to make sure you never got out if we couldn't find a way to stop him. That's not weak."

"But I couldn't stop him." He seemed to be lost in memory now, rocking in his corner and babbling. "I couldn't stop him or Oliver. I gave in. I let him win because I couldn't stop Oliver from killing Malia. I was too weak to stop them. Too pathetic strapped to that chair. I let him in. I let him win."

As the words began to sink in, Scott felt his stomach drop out from under him. "What?" The picture Stiles was eluding to was becoming clearer. Stiles had disappeared from Eichen House. When Malia showed up with the sword and picture of Kira's mom and Rhys, Scott didn't have time to worry about how or why she had sought him out. Only that she had been with Stiles at Eichen House. That they were attacked by a fellow inmate and when she came to she broke free and got herself released so she could bring the pack the sword and picture. After that their focus was defeating the Nogitsune.

Now Stiles' ramblings gave him more insight as to what happened the night Stiles disappeared and the Nogitsune took control. Once before Stiles mentioned how his roommate had been controlled by the Nogitsune by a fly too when they talked about what happened to the pack the night the Nogitsune separated itself from Stiles – the distraction it caused. Somehow the dark kitsune had put them in a desperate situation. Oliver had threatened Malia's life if Stiles didn't let the Nogitsune in. So Stiles had done the only thing he could, hoping his friends would be able to stop the monster before more could happen.

His brother had fought until the last possible moment. And knowing that it could possibly lead to his death too, Stiles let the Nogitsune in. To save someone he allowed the demon control. That's not weak in Scott's book but the opposite.

All these thoughts raced through his mind in milliseconds. And he was quick to reaffirm his distraught friend. "No Stiles. You aren't weak. You're the strongest person I know. You fought longer and harder than anyone could have imagined. You did what you had to to protect us. You risk your life out there all the time. You don't have powers or anything. You're human and you still face danger head on. That's not weak. You are brave and smart and so much better than any of this. Even when he had you cornered you were ready to take your own life to save us, then you figured it out like you always do and you saved all of us."

"Not all of us." A tiny voice reminded.

Scott found it hard to get the words out, but he managed. "They knew the risks. The Nogitsune and the Oni killed them. Not you." The pair stared at each other for a long time. Scott's eyes held firm to the conviction and the truth in his words. Stiles seeking solace and absolution.

In the end it was Stiles who relented. With a miniscule nod of his head, he cast his gaze back down to his knees and allowed the weight of his memories to press him. The emotional rollercoaster that these lapses often put him through left him drained and shaky. "Sorry," he whispered.

"It's ok," Scott grinned. "It's gonna take time still. And with the Dead pool we haven't really had the time to process and deal with everything that's happened. Maybe we'll finally get a break now that the dead pool has been shut down." Getting up, Scott held out his hand as a peace offering. Without thinking, Stiles reached up and took it. As Scott pulled the lanky teen to his feet, he could feel something seeping up his arm. And when he looked at their clasped hands, he noticed the faint grey lines dancing under his skin. Frowning he glanced at Stiles and noted him swaying.

"Woah. What's wrong?"

Realizing his mistake, Stiles yanked his hand back and reached behind himself for support. "Nothing," the automatic response spilled from his lips.

"He does have a concussion," Melissa reminded them which Stiles immediately dismissed with an 'I'm fine.'

But Scott shook his head. "No, it's more than that." It felt familiar but not as intense. Then it hit him. Right after the split with the Nogitsune, Stiles woke on their couch and confessed that he was in pain. Scott never got a full indication of how bad it had been. And after everything that happened they never really discussed it. Now that he thought about it, he realized that Stiles had avoided contact with many of them, especially the wolves, afterward. He had collapsed after the Nogitsune was defeated. The connection between them had been severed. But what did that truly mean? And was it possible that there were after effects no one had bothered to ask about?

Scott may not always be quick on the uptake but when he figured stuff out he always acted upon it quickly. "Have you really been in pain since the split?" Stiles didn't meet his friend's eyes. "After we defeated him, it never fully went away did it?"

Confused, Melissa was stumbling over the questions she wanted to ask. When she was finally able to form the words, she didn't need them. What Scott was implying, hit her full force. Her heart clenched as she too turned to her surrogate son in shock.

But Stiles didn't want their concern or sympathy. He didn't deserve it. "It's fine. I'm fine. Nothing I can't handle…"

"On your own, right?" Scott demanded, anger beginning to seethe beneath the surface at his friend's obvious aversion. "Well, you aren't on your own. You have the pack."

The other teen countered, "Who would just siphon it off. Well, that doesn't work for me. They have suffered enough because of me. They don't need to take any more. It's mine. _Mine._ I deal with it. I live with it." He pointed at his chest, his fist thudding against his ribs.

"You're pack. What happens to one happens to all. We can help you."

"What are we, musketeers?" Stiles, scoffed. "No. I don't want your help. Just leave it."

"I can't. If you're hurting, we can help. Maybe Deaton can find a way to stop it." Scott took a step forward, longing quickly replacing his angry. The desire to protect and care for those he loves; his pack. And someone in his pack was hurting. He couldn't allow it to continue.

For his part, Stiles desperately wanted to get away, but he couldn't. Didn't they understand? "I don't want it stop. I don't want help. I just want to be left alone."

Even Melissa couldn't quite fathom why Stiles would rebuff them. "Stiles, sweetheart, you don't need to suffer. I'm sure I can find some medicine…"

"No! Please. Just stop. It's fine. I'm fine." Cornered and frantic, his hands fisted in his hair as he hunched in on himself. "Please stop."

Scott's throat constricted as he watched his friend crumble. Pleading; begging, he choked out, "You're not fine. Let me help you. After everything we've been through, _you've_ been trough, please let me help you."

"No." Followed by a broken sob.

"Why not?"

"Because I…" but the words choked him; strangled him and he couldn't get them out. Stiles couldn't admit the darkness that still clung to his soul.

Good thing the callused FBI agent didn't have the same trouble with words that he did. And no compulsion to keep them hidden. "Because you don't think you deserve it." When Stiles' eyes went wide and he paled even further, Raf knew he had hit it on the head. Having contented himself to the side lines until now, he took a step into the room and continued. "You don't think you deserve to be free of the pain and guilt because you believe that your friends died because of you. Am I right?"

Stiles didn't move; didn't blink; didn't even breathe.

"You're not the first one to have Survivor's Guilt, Stiles. And despite what you believe, whatever punishment you think you deserve, you don't."

"You don't know that. You don't know what I've done. It wasn't just Allison and Aiden. It was all the people who worked for my dad that died from the bomb. People I've known for years. Dead because of me. And the innocent people that the Oni attacked at the hospital – that was on me too."

OK, so Raf didn't have all the details yet. Scott had only just started going over the evil kitsune thing when he jumped up and ran to the kitchen. But some of it, McCall had witnessed firsthand. He had enough pieces of the puzzle now that he could see the big picture. And that included the standoff in the locker room that Stiles wanted to keep hidden. With enlightened eyes he began to see the symptoms of PTSD and Survivor's Guilt in the teen and recognize them for what they were. So he didn't need all the facts to know the truth.

"No, it wasn't. You were used. A pawn in someone else's game. It could have been anyone. Even Scott. Would Scott deserve to be punished if he had been possessed by the demon?" He attempted to reason with the teen.

"Scott wouldn't have let them all die. He would have stopped it. Not let him in."

But Raf shook his head. "You don't know that. If what you said is true and that girl Malia's life was in immediate danger, you did what you had to to save her."

"I couldn't let Oliver kill her," Stiles confirmed with a raspy whisper.

"If it had been Allison and Scott in those positions, don't you think Scott would have done the same thing to save Allison?"

"He's a werewolf. He could have fought him better."

"Or the Nogitsune could have used Scott's werewolf abilities to do worse. My point is that it doesn't matter who it used, it still was going to hurt people. It may have even taken extra pleasure knowing it was hurting people _you_ cared about. In any case, whatever it did wasn't your fault and you **do not** deserve to be punished for its crimes."

For the first time, Stiles looked up at the imposing figure. Their eyes locked and the teen could see the sincerity in them. He also caught flittering hints of sympathy and respect in the chocolate depths. But more importantly he found the absolution he had been so desperately seeking in the last person he would ever look to find it. They had been butting heads since Scott and Stiles first became friends. And now, the man he had always disliked offered him the one thing his friends and family could not. Unbiased, honest - Forgiveness.

Suddenly, the invisible weight that had been crushing him for months vanished. In fact, it was such a startling shift, he actually felt lightheaded. Both Melissa and Scott jumped in and grabbed an arm when he swayed. "It's ok. I'm fine. Really." Melissa let go when he seemed steadier on his feet.

Although Scott still held firm. "Are you sure?"

Stealing a glance at the FBI agent, Stiles smirked. "Actually, I think I really am ok." Raf gave a curt nod back. All the tension in the room instantly vanished. In fact, he felt a warmth on his cheeks as he blushed with embarrassment for the trouble he had caused.

Scott wasn't lost to the underlying conversation taking place between his father and best friend. But where he usually had to smooth it over, he found he was in reality grateful for it. He also felt the strain between them flee.

Stiles placed a hand over the one Scott had on his arm. As the light grey lines began to form, he added, "Thanks, Scott. For everything. Sorry I've been such a tool about it."

"Don't worry about it. Told you you just needed some time. But I knew you would come around in the end."

"That's enough dude, before we turn into a couple of girls." Quick to dispel the remaining emotions with humour, Stiles made a show of sniffing the air. "If we don't wrap this up now dinner will be a burnt mess. And I don't want all our hard work to go to waste. Isn't that right, Melissa?"

Mother and son both grinned. Scott even chuckled. "Whatever dude, like anything you make is bad."

Stiles ignored him while he tasted his concoction. Melissa started barking orders, "Raf set the table and I'll get the drinks. Scott you help Stiles serve."

"Not too bad, think I'll take some home to dad." Stiles muttered to himself.

Scott watched his parents move about the kitchen and used their distraction to address his brother. "Are you sure you're ok?"

About to give his patented answer, Stiles caught the serious expression on Scott's face and stopped. He took a moment to scan his surroundings before landing back on his best friend. "I am, Scott, for now. I can't promise that everything will be ok all the time, but from now on, when I need help I'll ask for it. I won't keep it to myself."

"Good. Because my dad is right. You don't deserve to be punished any more than the rest of us for what happened. We all share in the blame." Now that the serious moment passed, Scott smiled brightly. "Now let's eat cause I'm starving."

- TW – TW – TW – TW –

I decided to follow the growing trend in shows by glossing over all the stuff we really want to see and allowing fans to fantasize what really happened. So, yeah no 'big talk' from our perspective of what Scott told his dad about the Supernatural. And to be perfectly honest the idea I had for this chapter when I started writing completely got thrown out as I typed. Writing is a truly amazing and organic process. I have written many a story with one thing in mind only to have something completely different pop out, as evident here. Eiterh way, I hope you enjoyed.

Sorry I didn't get to post last week. I was hard at work on costumes and dealing with trick-or-treaters. We moved into a new development earlier this year and wasn't sure how many kids we would get if any. Turns out our neighborhood is considered safe and people drive in to trick-or-treat. We ran out of candy twice by 8 o'clock. So now we know we have to decorate and do it up for next year.

Anyway, next week I am posting an epilogue for this story and that's it. The end is neigh.

As always, thank you all for reading, reviewing, faving and alerting. My muse and I appreciate it.

Quick Shout outs: Sarah – thanks for reviewing. Oddly enough that was the original plan for this chapter when I posted 2 weeks ago. Then when I sat down to write yesterday I had another idea, which ultimately morphed into what you see here. Thanks again.

Guest – Sorry if this isn't what you meant by McCall finding out about Stiles and the Nogitsune. Still, I hope you liked it. I appreciate your input!

Until next Friday,

~Ari :D

p.s. - I apparently posted a one shot back in September that I guess no one liked called _Rough Night_. If that is true, please let me know and I will remove it. Thanks again for your support.


	8. Epilogue

Epilogue

Dinner went by smoothly. The four ate and talked. Most of which Rafael asked questions to which Scott primarily answered. When it was all over, they cleaned up and put everything away, except for the plate Stiles prepared to take to his dad.

During that time, Raf pulled Stiles aside quickly. "I meant what I said. And I know what it's like to live with the guilt. It's something I've been dealing with since I walked out of this house years ago. And it was Scott who reminded me that what I may have done was bad, the fact that I ran away from the problem and tried to ignore it was even worse. You're too young. You shouldn't have this kind of trauma in your life. But I see now there won't be anything we can do to stop it. So, if this is what life is going to be, for all of us, then we need to stick together, help each other. I know we haven't gotten along most of the time, but I'm here if you want to talk. No judgments, no criticism, cause I'm not really one to judge; just an open ear. Anytime, okay?"

Surprised at the honest invitation, Stiles accepted, "Thanks, Mr. McCall. I appreciate it."

The two separated and soon the boys found themselves in Scott's room doing homework. It was late but late nights were norm for them now. They allowed dinner to settle and to get some work done before Stiles decided to bring up what they had been trying to get together for to begin with. "So if what Lydia said was true, then we were right and Peter was the Benefactor from the beginning even if he didn't remember."

"Yeah and Meredith and Brunski were just pawns in Peter's game," Scott concurred.

"Which leads us to the real reason we've been trying to talk. Now that the dead pool is gone, what are we going to do about Peter? My dad said he had to let him just walk away. And was the only connection Peter had to Lydia's grandmother through Brunski and Eichen house or is something more still going on here?"

"Yeah, all really good questions," Scott readily agreed to Stiles' thought process, however he had his own agenda for their talk. Clearing his throat, he pressed on, "But that isn't the reason I wanted to talk to you."

Curious now, Stiles leaned forward. "Then what did you want to talk about?"

Taking a deep breath, Scott summoned the courage to reveal what had been plaguing his mind. "Before you stopped the dead pool, at the warehouse, we were fighting a whole bunch of assassins. I wolfed out."

"Good," grinned the lanky teen, not really seeing an issue with that. "Those bastards deserved a few claws up their asses for taking out kids."

Scott's teeth worried at his lip. What had happened back there had really bothered him and he wanted Stiles' take on it. "I didn't just wolf out though. I _changed_. I even scared Brett's sister."

Realizing this was more serious than previously assumed, Stiles cautiously asked, "Alright, so I'm guessing a little more than some glowing eyes, teeth, claws and hair then."

"I could feel my entire face changing. And I _felt_ different. More angry. Like all I wanted to do was rip those guys apart – literally." Even the memory left the Alpha feeling anxious. Glancing down at his hands, seeing the red painted on them still even though they had been scrubbed clean, he scowled. Softly, he admitted, "I was ready to rip them apart."

Watching his best friend carefully, Stiles shifted to the edge of his seat and pointed out, "But you didn't Scott. You stopped."

"Only just. I stopped because I saw Chloe's face and how scared she was. What if next time, no one's there to stop me. I might kill someone." Groaning, Scott jumped to his feet and began pacing. His hands tangled in his hair.

"First off, there's no way you would kill anyone." Stiles joined him in his pacing, allowing his own nervous energy to escape with the motions. "You're better than that Scott. And second, you never have to be alone. One of us will always be there with you."

"But what if you're not? If I'm alone how will I stop myself?" Scott allowed the question to hang in the air before he went on, "Remember when I first got bit? Remember what Peter was like? What if I turn into a Monster like him?"

"Woah, buddy, that will never happen. And if you ever change into something like Peter's fugly half, we can deal with that. But in no way will that ever make you a Monster like him. You're a true Alpha. Remember? But more importantly, you care about people Scott. Peter never did. That's why he was a monster. You? You go out of your way to save people. You saved me when everyone else told you I couldn't be saved. And that's why you will never be a monster like Peter. Cause you have friends and family that care about you too. We would never let you go down that path. No Darkside for you, okay? So stop worrying."

For a long time, the two stood there looking at each other, searching for any sign of doubt in what Stiles said. But seeing only that conviction, that trust in his best friend/brother, Scott allowed himself to smile which the other teen happily returned in his own geeky way.

"Thanks man. Just promise me you won't let me turn into Peter."

"Done." Stiles clapped him on the shoulder and held him for a few moments. "You're stuck with me. And believe me, I do not want to have to deal with another Peter out there. One psychopathic werewolf running around Beacon Hills is more than enough." Stiles wiped his other hand down his face, a slight sheen of perspiration on his brow.

Satisfied with Stiles' vow, Scott watched his friend and noted the paleness of his skin. Cautiously, he asked, "So how are you feeling?"

Even before they started this conversation, Stiles had noticed how the ache was deepening in his bones. He was hoping they would finish this heart-to-heart up quickly so he could head out without the werewolf realizing what was happening. But now that it was out in the open, Stiles sighed. No point in hiding it, he answered truthfully. "It's not that bad," Stiles shrugged, quickly adding when Scott scowled, "I mean it. Sometimes I barely feel anything. Then there are some days when I feel like every cell in my body has been bruised and beaten. Today _isn't_ one of those days. I can manage."

Still coping with the sense of betrayal Scott felt from Stiles' lack of sharing, the teen pouted. "Why didn't you tell me you were still hurting? I could have helped you."

"Like I said, I didn't want help." Sighing, he fell back onto Scott's bed and spoke to the ceiling. "Ok, so maybe I did feel like I deserved the pain but it was more than that. It reminds me that the Nogitsune was real and what it did while wearing my body was real. I don't want to forget that. I don't want to feel weak or vulnerable again. I may not have wolf powers but I'm not going down without a fight the next time some supernatural demon comes knocking. So if I can use that pain to keep me fighting then the Nogitsune doesn't win. Because I'm alive and I'm not going to give up again. I'll keep the pain for now."

In a roundabout, twisted way, Scott understood Stiles' logic. In a way he probably would have done the same. "Just remember to tell me if you have one of those bad days and need the edge taken off. With our healing abilities it goes away pretty quick. I just don't want you to suffer in silence, not when I can help."

"And I don't want to have to rely on you or some other medication when I can handle it. But if it will make you feel any better, here." He offered Scott his hand again. "It's hard to sleep sometimes when it's like this. A little off the top might be helpful before I head home."

"Sure, no problem." Scott flopped down next to his friend and easily took up the hand. Always amazed by this particular gift, he thoughtfully considered the pain seeping into his veins. It wasn't as bad as he expected but it was way more than a dull ache. Absently he wondered what Stiles' pain tolerance was now with the Nogitsune's parting gift constantly affecting his friend. He didn't think on it long as Stiles' bizarre sense of humor kicked in.

"God, it sounded like I was asking for a haircut. No way am I going back to the buzz look now though. Chicks dig the hair."

They shared in a moment of laughter. "By chicks, you mean Malia."

"Not just her, I've caught some stares directed my way around school."

"Was I with you? Might not have been you then that they were staring at."

"Wow, dude, low blow. You know not every girl thinks that goofy jaw of yours is cute, ya know."

The rest of their conversation fell into familiar teenage banter. Soon though Stiles pulled away and Scott let him go. It was late and Stiles decided it was best he head home and sleep, something he hadn't done in almost 2 days – not that Scott had either. It was best they catch up because who knew what tomorrow would bring.

Yeah the dead pool was done but Peter was still out there and so was Kate, for that matter. Derek was still losing his wolf abilities and they needed to find a way to stop it. And of course, the Nemeton was still powered on, who knew what other creatures would be drawn to it. Only the future would tell. And with their pack, they would face it head on.

- The End –

- TW – TW – TW – TW –

So there you have it, the end of Silencer. It has been a surprising and fun ride. Thank you all for taking the journey with me.

At this point, I have given the story leave to rejoin the show's story arc. It can carry on and head off to La Iglesia and the season finale. Although, I am still curious to see how exactly Agent McCall's enlightenment will actually go on the show, but I guess that will have to wait at least til next season. In the mean time, I can reflect back on this.

I do still plan on posting a new chapter to Penance and Damnation later tonight, so if you need a fix of Stiles angst go check it out. I also still plan on posting there Fridays now that this is done.

On to Shout outs – Sarah-Thank you so much sweetie for all the reviews. I really appreciate your comments and encouragement! You Rock! Jo- Thank you. I'm happy you have enjoyed the story. I really appreciate it.

I will edit for Final Shout outs next Friday. After that you will need to log in for signed reviews for me to reply.

Fare thee well, my lovelies! Until the next adventure!

Your humble author,

~Ari :D


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